


What a Wonderful Universe! (Probably, Maybe, Not)

by Pandaland123



Category: Supernatural
Genre: De-Aged Dean Winchester, Dean and Henry fall into other universe, Dean and Sam are cousins, Dean is adorable, Dean is not okay with this, Dean-Centric, Gen, Henry is alive, Henry meets Bobby, Sam is so confused, baby!dean - Freeform, dean hates car seats, kind of Dean-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-15 08:17:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12317235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandaland123/pseuds/Pandaland123
Summary: Of all the universes Dean could get thrown into, it just had to be the one where he was 16 months old, oh joy! Oh, and Henry's here too...





	1. Chapter 1

If you had asked, Henry wouldn't have been able to say how he ended up here. One moment he was dead, the next he was stood in the bunker, a two year old in his arms. This particular two year old didn't seem so keen on sitting in his arms, big green eyes staring up at him as he squirmed around. After a moment, when he seemed to realise he wasn't going to be put down, he stopped and began studying Henry's face.

"Uh, what's your name?" Henry asked, feeling uncomfortable under the child's gaze.

"Dean," The boy replied and as Henry took a closer look, he realised the child couldn't have been anyone else. What year was it? Why was he here? Where was here? Henry, having never reached initiation, had never seen the bunker himself before. "And you're Henry..."

Henry watched, he looked deep in thought, as if he were trying to figure out who Henry was.

"Wait a second... Why am I so small!?" He shrieked, looking down at himself, his memory just now coming back to him. "And why are you carrying me? Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Yes, I am, dead that is, I just woke up here, you in my arms. Where are we anyway?" Henry asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Oh yeah, you never got to see it, did you. Remember that box you gave us?" Henry nodded. "Well it opened up this place. The Men of Letters bunker. Sam and I practically live here now,"

"Do you know where Sam is?"

"No," Dean shifted again. "Think you could put me down now? In case you forgot, I'm not actually two,"

"Oh, right," He put Dean on the ground, his hands hovering for a moment as Dean got his footing. It was only then that Dean realised his clothes fit him. Although his jacket seemed to have disappeared, everything else was child sized. He took a shaky step forward, grabbing the edge of the table to steady himself. "You sure you've got it?"

"I'm fine," He huffed, letting go of the table, apparently that was the wrong thing to do, because with only a few steps he found himself face planting into the ground. "Sonovabitch!"

Apparently, this child thing wasn't limited to his appearance and no one had actually told them how old he was. But what was even more annoying than falling over was the very real urge to cry. Seriously, this was going to get annoying fast. He pulled himself up to his knees and focused on evening out his breathing and blinking away the unshed tears. Henry scooped him up from behind and settled him on his hip. It reminded him of when John was little and he almost wanted to smile. 

"We might have to work on the walking thing, but for now I suggest we figure out what's going on," He said, watching his grandson sniffle a little. He wished he could have been there, been able to watch his grandchildren grow up. 

"You are not teaching me how to walk," Dean said sternly, he already knew how to walk, he didn't need to learn it all over again. Not to mention how awfully embarrassing that would be and he was not going to cry every time he so much as scrapped his knee. "Do you have a phone on you?"

"Dean, I'm not from this year, remember? I don't own a phone," Henry reminded him. "We might be able to find one though,"

But they needn't have worried about that because Sam chose that moment to burst into the bunker, heavy breathing and a worn out look on his face.

"Sam!" Dean called out, catching the now older Winchester's attention.

"Dean? Henry?" Sam looked puzzled. "What are you doing?"

"I'd like to ask the same thing," Dean shot back.

"I went to go get this," Sam produced a book from behind him, bound with leather and covered in what looked like Latin.

"What is that?" It was Henry who spoke this time, when it came to books and things similar, Henry always seemed to know what everything was. It was odd to have him question Sam.

"It's the book we've been looking for," Sam watched them both stare in confusion at him. "For the past two weeks... Are you okay?"

"Well, considering I was dead about five minutes ago and Dean was in his mid-thirties, I'm going to have to say no," Henry replied, pulling Dean up slightly, who in turn wrapped his arms around Henry to stop himself from slipping.

"Are you feeling okay, you never died and I have no clue what you're talking about, Dean in his mid-thirties? You're joking, right?" Sam tried for a smile, but he looked worried.

"No, I'm the older brother, by four years," Dean said back and Henry merely nodded.

"No, you're my little cousin," Sam corrected.

"Cousin?" Dean felt a mix of confusion and dread wash over him. "So, who's my Dad then?"

"Wha... Henry," Sam was genuinely starting to worry now.

"No, you two are my grandchildren. John's my only child," Henry cut in.

"John's your older brother,"

The three of them just stared at each other, trying to work out who was right and who wasn't. Sam placed the book down and instead rooted through his bag, producing a laptop and a small black leather photo holder. 

"Here, look at these," He passed over the photos and opened his laptop. Henry sat down, Dean in his lap, and opened up the small leather binder. It was full of photos, everything from Dean as a new born to Henry's birthday to full family pictures.

Sam twisted round his laptop to show them an article on the fire the fire that killed Mary Winchester, or at least should have. Apparently Mary, John and their only son, Sam, had made it out in time, but the house itself was ruined. After, they went to stay with John's brother, Henry and his wife. Dean wasn't even born yet.

"So where are... John and Mary?" Dean asked, it was weird, he didn't usually call them by their first names.

"At Bobby's," Sam said, as though it should be obvious. "I had a witch hunt to deal with and the bunker belongs to Henry, so I had to drag him along. The bunkers safe enough for you to come too, so here we are,"

"This is just too weird," Dean yawned. "What time is it?"

"Two in the afternoon," Sam replied. "You're probably tired, normally you'd be napping by now. It's why I was so surprised to find the two of you in here,"

"I don't take naps," Dean shot back, but his own body betrayed him, as his eyelids drooped and he stifled a yawn.

"Sure you don't," Sam smiled at him. "Want me to take him to bed whilst you take a look at that book?"

"Sure, I guess..." Henry watched as Sam plucked Dean from his lap and walked off down the hall with him. He picked the book up and used the side of his hand to brush dust from the cover. Meanwhile, Sam took Dean into a room which he recognised as his, except the bed had taller sides, which he assumed were to stop him from rolling off the side. There was also a mobile hanging above it, made to look like the solar system and a toy rabbit only slightly smaller than himself, granted he wasn't all that tall anymore, lying on the bed.

"'M not tired, Sammy," He said lazily, propping his chin on Sam's shoulder. Even if he wouldn't admit it, he really just wanted to fall asleep right now.

"Sure you aren't, sport, but how's this? You take a nap whilst me and your Daddy take care of this mean old witch and then we can go back to Bobby's, huh?" 

"I... Don't like... Witches," He mumbled, he wasn't sure when he closed his eyes, but he didn't think he'd be able to open them again.

"We won't be long, 'kay?" He pulled Dean's shoes off, along with his jeans and flannel shirt and set him down in bed, pulling the covers up to his waist and pushing his rabbit a little closer. In his sleepy haze, Dean wrapped his arms around the rabbit and nuzzled his face into the softest fur on earth. Sam couldn't help but smile at his cousin, he could be so cute sometimes. They would work out what was going on in time, why Henry and Dean's memory seems to have been jumbled up, after all, it had to be those two, right?

So far, they had more proof that what he was saying was right, than they did of Henry and Dean's claims. It only made sense and anyway, Dean being older than him, fat chance. He could barely imagine that, let alone the kid being in his mid-thirties.

When Dean came to, a few hours later, it was because Sam was picking him up. He was still holding on to his rabbit as he was hauled onto Sam's hip. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his spare hand and at the realisation that he was clinging to a stuffed toy, he dropped it. Sam just dipped down and picked it up, placing it down on a table connected to the wall.

"Your Dad's in the library, the nasty witch is gone and I'm just going to get you changed and then we can go, okay?" Sam smiled sweetly at him and it felt weird. Sam never looked at him like that, but then again, Sam thought he wasn't even two yet. Sam lay him down beside his rabbit and went off to get something from the cupboard across the room. Dean just stared up at the ceiling, until Sam started to remove his shirt, at that point he felt it be necessary to pay attention to what was going on. "Hey," Sam pushed him back down gently once his shirt was off. "Can you just sit still for Sammy?"

Dean had intended to, but the distinct sound of two tabs being pulled open made him curious. He had to wonder how he didn't notice, sure he'd been caught up in the whole how, why, when thing and then he'd been really tired, but that was a pretty major thing not to notice. Sam lifted his legs, pulled the soggy material out from beneath him and dumped it in the bin. Dean put his head down, squeezed his eyes tight shut and tried to ignore what Sam was doing down there. Sam, still being just as tall as he'd left him, would be able to grab him easily if he tried to make a timely escape and even then, he could barely walk without falling over. Not that it was easy to ignore as Sam began to clean him with a wet wipe. He felt deeply uncomfortable and it took all his will not to roll off the table right there and then. Falling off of here would hurt like a bitch and it wouldn't help his current situation, other than perhaps delaying it by a few minutes. Sam began rubbing some kind of cream onto his genitals, before lifting up his legs once more to slide a new diaper under his bottom, but when he didn't put his legs down, Dean began to fuss. Having his legs pulled up like that made him feel vulnerable and he did not like it at all.

"Dean-o, shhh, I'm almost done. Think you could sit still for just a moment longer?" Sam hushed the young boy, trying to get him to stop wriggling about. Dean let out a shuddery breath and stilled, letting Sam powder him, before finally putting his legs down and pulling the diaper snug around his waist, tabbing it shut. "There you go, that wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Sam produced a shirt just like the one he'd been wearing, except this one snapped around the crotch and Dean let Sam tug it on. He assumed he wouldn't get much of a choice on what he himself wanted to wear. Then Sam grabbed a pair of shorts which stopped just above knees and had an elastic waist, along with a flannel and white ankle socks.

Once he was fully dressed, Sam picked him and the rabbit up and walked out to find Henry sifting through the books that they owned for anything which could explain how he and Dean got here or what was going on.

"Henry, come on, lets go, I think someone wants to go see his Aunt, Uncle and Grandpa," Sam said, grabbing some duffle's and walking out to the car. Henry followed, watching as Sam opened the back door of the car. Dean couldn't believe it, they had ruined his Baby with a stupid backwards car seat. Even worse, he couldn't drive her anymore, now that wasn't fair. He may have sat still for Sam when he was getting dressed, but this was not acceptable. He began to struggle in Sam's arms as he tried to get him into the car seat. No way was he going to sit in that thing, most certainly not. No matter what you say. He'd settle for passenger seat, even if he did want to drive, but no way was he sitting in the back. "Someone's fussy today,"

Sam held him out at arms length, which made Dean's struggles all the more ineffective as well as tiring. Which was clearly Sam's plan, tire the kid out and then buckle him in. Dean, taking note of this, stopped and gave Sam a disapproving look.

"I don't wanna sit in the back," Dean whined.

"It's not that bad Dean, you can see out the window from back here,"

"No, I can't. The car seat is way too low for me to be able to see out the windows," Dean wasn't stupid. Just by looking at it, he could tell there was no way he'd be able to see out the window. Sam, deciding to take a new route, tossed Dean up into the air. Dean, who hadn't been ready for that, looked terrified as Sam strapped him in. "That was cheating,"

Dean's voice cracked and he blinked away tears. That was bloody terrifying. He would actually gut the sasquatch if he ever tried something like that again. His face had flushed red and his breath hitched. Apparently, his actions didn't go unnoticed by Sam.

"Aww, Dean-o, I'm sorry. I didn't realise it'd scare you that much," He soothed him, placing a kiss on top of Dean's head. "Henry, can you grab Dean's paci from that bag there?"

Henry, who'd just been watching up until that point, crouched down and unzipped the bag. It was filled with all kinds of baby supplies. In a small side pocket there was a multitude of pacifiers and he picked up the first one he saw, handing it to Sam. No matter how odd this all was for him, he can't imagine how much odder it must be for Dean. Sam was trying to nudge the rubber into Dean's mouth, who had clenched his jaw tight shut. Sam was relentless though and eventually Dean gave up and allowed it to be slipped in. It felt weird, he pushed his tongue against it, trying to get a feel for it. He gave it an experimental suck, then went still. Henry wondered for a moment if he'd spit it out, instead he did it again and then once more for good measure. His face, which was just regaining colour, turned a deep shade of red when he realised the two of them were watching him and tried again. It took him a moment to set himself a rhythm, but still every so often he'd miss the beat slightly and screw his face up.

Sam dumped the duffle's, except the one full of Dean's stuff, in the boot and placed the last one on the car floor.

"I'll drive, you sit in the back with him," Sam told Henry, getting into the front, whilst he got into the back.

It was weird, Dean was technically his kid now, even if Sam seemed to be doing a better job at taking care of him already. At this age, he was pretty adorable, but he knew that Dean wasn't actually that age and it'd be rather unfair to make him relive his entire life.

"Is your father a Man of Letters?" Henry asked, wondering if that, too, could have changed. He clearly was one, considering he owned the bunker, John could possibly be one as well.

"John? No way, he's a hunter, like me. You two are always fighting over which is better. Dean's going to be a Man of Letters though, aren't you Dean-o?" Sam replied. Dean, not being able to say much around the pacifier in his mouth, simply nodded and hummed in approval. Clearly everyone else expects him to be one, judging by the way Sam said it. Although Dean was pretty sure he'd rather be a hunter, being a Man of Letters sounded extremely boring, if he wanted to be a librarian he would have done it the first time round. Hopefully, they would fix this mess before he had to take up the family business.

Dean had finally fixed his rhythm to the point where he would have to focus quite hard on getting it wrong, in order to do so. But his new child brain was getting bored, quickly and he had began to shift in his seat and kick his legs. At that point he was given back the rabbit from earlier and then left to his own devices. It's big beady black eyes stared at him and he was having some mixed feelings on it. On one hand, it was super fluffy and cuddly, on the other, it was a little creepy and the look it was giving him meant business. The question was, should he pull it closer or try for a punch, he could probably wind it if he struck the stomach, but the car seat was limiting his movement and he was tipped at an awkward angle. Probably designed for sleeping in. Then he realised he was contemplating fighting a stuffed animal and that the rabbit couldn't actually do anything back. He pulled it close and buried his face in it, trying to shy away from Henry's stare.

Eventually, Dean's breathing evened out and he fell asleep, so Henry turned to look out the window. He didn't actually know who this Bobby person was or where he lived, he hadn't seen John since he was about eight and he knew Mary was Sam's mother, but he hadn't met her before. He had a feeling they'd know him though, now won't that just be awkward.

"So, who is this Bobby guy anyway?" Henry asked, Sam shot him an incredulous look, before turning back to the road.

"Your Dad," He replied, emphasising the word 'Dad' to the best of his ability.

"My what?"

"We really need to get you two fixed,"

"You're telling me," He remembered everything so vividly and yet he couldn't help but question his own memory. The world around him was so different from what he knew, it was possible that he and Dean were the one's who had been affected.

It didn't take long for them to reach Bobby's, three hours at most. There were old rusty cars everywhere and a house that looked just as ancient, but kind of homely at the same time.

"Grab Dean, I'll get the bags," Sam said, stepping out of the car. Henry, careful not to wake him, opened the buckle and lifted him up onto his hip, how he remembered Sam had done it and how he'd done it with John when he was younger. Dean stirred slightly, but didn't wake up, so he shut the door, careful not to slam it and watched as Sam shut the boot. "He asleep?"

"Yeah, I think today was a little exhausting for him," Henry said in a hushed voice as not to wake him. 

"Probably," Sam knocked on the front door and the three of them waited until a man swung the door open, he had a worn out baseball cap and a moustache with a scruffy beard. A smile graced his features at the sight of his son and grandchildren. 

"Hey, you guys get here okay?" Bobby asked, his voice was gruff, but warm and Henry wouldn't have minded having this man as a father, which, according to Sam, was exactly who he was.

"Yeah, traffic wasn't so bad, but I think Dean-o over here wasn't so keen," Sam smiled and ran a hand through Dean's hair.

"I bet, you two wanna come in? I know the front porch is rather charming, but I promise the inside is even better,"

"I don't know about that, I really like the wood work out here and you get a great view of all your antediluvian cars," Sam chuckled.

"Antediluvian?" Henry questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, it's like old-fashioned, ancient,"

"I know what it means, but... No one actually ever says that,"

"Okay, well the two of you can marvel the front of my house all night, or you can come in," Bobby cut in, stepping to the side.

"Thanks," Henry said, stepping into the significantly warmer house, feeling Dean relax at the warmth. It was only then that he remembered Dean was wearing shorts and was probably freezing his ass off whilst they were discussing the word 'antediluvian'. He could hear two voices coming from the living room and he stepped in only to come face to face with a much older John and his wife, Mary. She was nothing like what he'd imagined, her short blonde hair was wavy and her worn out jeans scruffy. Her sweet smile just seemed to fit and went hand in hand with her soft voice.

"Thought you guys weren't going to make it tonight, you're so late. I don't blame Dean for taking a nap, might've even joined him, had I been in the car," John said, as he stood up to give his brother a hug. It was so different from the John Winchester who had been Dean's father, but that was to be expected, Mary was still alive and he never got obsessed over Azazel. 

Mary stood up and they exchanged pleasantries as she too gave him a hug. Sam and Bobby stepped in just after and Dean felt that moment would be a good time to wake up. John and Mary were greeting their son when Dean cracked open one eye just the slightest bit, blinking to adjust to the light. Henry looked down at the youngest, watched as he took in the room and seemed to recognise it as Bobby's house.

"Hey, Dean, did you have a nice nap?" Henry asked, pulling Dean up a little and kissing him on the forehead. He nodded slightly, clearly still not quite with it. His rhythm, with the pacifier, had turned into something a lot more sluggish and lazy. He gave a slight nod, but there wasn't much time for him to get accustomed to his new surroundings, because Dean was adorable and no one had yet been able to say hi to him. Mary, stepped over, bending down slightly to be at Dean's height. 

"Hey Dean," She smiled at the little boy and Dean stared back. Why was Mary here? Mary's dead. Dean's brain was playing catch up and it took him a moment to remember everything Sam had said earlier. He snapped out of his sleepy daze and reached out his arms for his ex-mother, turned Aunt. Mary was happy to accommodate and Henry passed him over to her. His rhythm, on the pacifier, picked up again as he pushed his little face into the crane of her neck. "Today been pretty tiring for him?"

"Yeah," Henry sighed, Dean hadn't fallen asleep yet, but he looked like he just might.

"Well he's going to have to wait a little longer, we've got dinner on the table," John cut in, looking a little guilty that he was keeping the kid from going to sleep.

Mary placed Dean into the high chair at one end of the table and pulled the clip up between his legs so he couldn't slip out. At least Dean assumed that was what it was for, didn't make it anymore comfortable though. He really wanted to sit on a normal seat, the cushions were quite comfy, but other than that, high chairs were awful. He didn't like it one bit and had it not been Mary putting him in it, he would have kicked up a fuss, just like he had with his car seat. Even if it didn't get him anywhere, they'd at least get the message. 

Bobby came over with a plastic tray of food for him whilst John put everyone else's food in the middle of the table. They were having some pasta dish with spicy chillies, which apparently Dean wasn't allowed to have and instead he'd been given mash, pees and sausages, which had been cut into little pieces for him. Then they gave him some crappy plastic fork, which kind of made him want to throw it at someone and detest against children's cutlery. He didn't. Instead he sat and watched as everyone loaded their plates with bacon chilly pasta, which looked amazing by the way, and then looked down at his kiddie meal. Why did the universe have to change him into a near-two-year-old? Life is so unfair.

He picked up his fork and made a messy attempt at stabbing a piece of sausage, he had the coordination of a child too. His hand literally wouldn't cooperate with what he was telling it to do and it was so goddamn frustrating. He looked up at the other occupants in the room, who were managing to each like normal human beings and oh how me missed being 33. He'd be damned if a plate of food beat him though and he tried again. 

By the time he was half way through, more pees had landed on the floor than gone in his mouth and there were pieces of sausage on the tray holding his plate. He would not cry over his inability to eat food properly, no matter how much he loved food, he wouldn't cry. He was fairly sure he'd gone red in the face though, because John, who was sitting on one side of him, leaned over.

"You alright, Dean-o?" He asked, in a hushed voice, as not to catch the tables attention. Dean shook his head and stared morbidly down at his plate. "What's wrong kiddo?"

"I can't," Dean simply said.

"You can't what?" Dean motioned to the pees strewn across the floor and the mess on his tray and he was fairly certain he had mash all over his face. John chuckled a little, grabbed a napkin to clean up Dean's face. "Can I?" John motioned for the fork and Dean seemed to contemplate for a moment before handing it over. He stabbed one of the sausage pieces that was still left on his plate and lifted it up to Dean's face. "Open wide," And Dean did just that. As soon as Dean had closed his mouth, John slid the fork out and Dean chewed happily, this wasn't so bad. He was getting more food in his mouth than he had managed so far and technically he hadn't lost, he'd just gotten some well earned assistance.

Mary, on the other hand, clearly couldn't miss the chance to take some photos of her husband feeding her favourite nephew, could she? It was adorable, not to mention a rare opportunity. Whilst Sam and Mary were caught up in the little one and his uncle, Bobby and Henry began to clear the table.

"That was really good," Henry complimented, as he stacked up the plates.

"Couldn't have done it without John's help," Bobby replied, looking over to where Dean was finishing off his food, looking much happier than he had. Henry picked up Dean's disregarded pacifier, before moving on to dry the plates that Bobby was washing. 

Sam picked up Dean's empty plate whilst John cleaned Dean's finger's off with a napkin.

"Hey, are there any bottles in that bag of Dean's stuff?" Henry asked, Sam nodded, walking off, only to return with a sippy cup, which he filled with apple juice and handed off to Dean. Who had already decided he wasn't drinking from that. No way. They'd give him a glass or he wasn't going to drink at all.

After cleaning up, they all moved back into the living room and Dean continued to refuse to drink the cups contents. Although Dean didn't have any problem with apple juice, in fact, when he was young the first time round, he'd loved it.

"Dean, can you just drink a little bit for me?" Henry asked. "You haven't drunk anything since this morning,"

He understood that Dean had only been a child for half a day, but after seeing his coordination skills, there was no way he was giving the kid have a glass. "What time is it?"

"Half nine," Bobby piped up, still looking at the small clock on the wall, as though if he stared hard enough, it might just burst into flames.

"It's way past your bedtime, no wonder you're tired," Henry muttered, plucking the sippy cup from Dean's hands and bringing it up to his face. "Come on, Dean, I'd really like it if you would drink some,"

Dean turned his head away, upset and unwilling. He lay his head back to fall asleep because he was sure he'd pass out pretty soon if he didn't. Henry merely shook him a little, just enough to make sleep slip from his grasp. He put his hands back onto the handles and tugged a little, so Henry let go and sighed in relief when the kid finally drank his juice.

"He's so cute," Mary broke the thick silence that had fallen amongst them, watching as Deans eyes fluttered shut from exhaustion. Henry placed the cup on the table, not wanting Dean to drop it. "How old is he now?"

"16 months," It was Sam, saving the day again. Henry was about to have an internal panic overload. At least he knew how old the kid was now.

"I remember when you were six months. He was the cutest little thing," Mary directed this next comment at Sam and that was how Bobby ended up getting Sam's baby photos to look at and Henry had to agree, Sam was cute.

Dean had long since fallen asleep when they decided to go to bed. Henry undressed the little boy, pulling a white t-shirt that just reached the top of his diaper on him and setting him down in his cot to sleep. He stepped out of the nursery and practically face planted into his bed.

There was so much to take in. He was alive, not only that but the whole world had gone tipsy turvey. Dean was his son, Sam his nephew, some man he'd only just met was his Dad and John was his brother. Today was all a little too much if you asked him, so he got dressed for bed and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This might just be an okay situation... if it weren't for how odd this all was.

Dean woke to the blindingly bright sun, shoving his rabbit over his eyes to block it out. He wondered if it had a name and if not, it surely needed one. Not that he liked it or anything, he just felt it would be rather rude not to give it a name. He stretched the rabbit out with his arms above him, blinking in the sunlight. Rupert the Rabbit.

"Rupe," Dean gave a go at saying it, just to test it out, but the end got caught in his throat and his tongue refused to cooperate. Great, this child thing was effecting his speech too now? He pulled Rupert down to his chest, arms beginning to hurt and wanting to curl up back into bed.

Only then did he notice the wooden bars around him, towering over him. His tired brain took a moment to piece together why he was sat in an open top cage and oh God he was in a crib. He sat up so fast he was surprised he didn't roll over. He was is a crib, he'd slept in a crib and no the bed in the bunker didn't count.

He looked down at himself, clad in only a t-shirt and diaper, before looking back up to asses his surroundings. He was still at Bobby's house, he recognised the room to be the spare one he slept in when he stayed here as a child the first time round. Except it had been fitted with toys, a crib, a changing table and other baby paraphernalia.

He twisted round to grab the bars of the crib and pull himself up onto his feet. It felt good to stretch his legs as he had been carried around all day yesterday. His body tensed up as he felt the cool wetness of the diaper between his legs. He'd wet himself whilst he was asleep, that much was obvious and it did not feel good. He let go of the bars and fell back onto his back, covering his face in mortification. There was no way he'd wet himself. This all had to be some really messed up dream. He'd wake up at the bunker and he would be 33 again and Sam would be his little brother and Henry would be six foot under along with John and Mary.

The bedroom door creaked open and Henry popped his face through the gap. Sam, who'd been standing behind him, gave him a soft thump on the back, pushing him into the room.

"Your kid, not mine," He mumbled, before setting off down the hall, leaving Henry to deal with Dean. Henry walked over to Dean's , who's face had gone a deep red in embarrassment, crib.

"Hey, Dean, you awake?" A pair of big green eyes peered over little hands, just far enough to let Henry know he was awake, before being covered back up. Henry paid no mind and picked Dean up. "How about we go get something to eat, then we'll find out what's going on today?"

Dean was torn, on one hand, admitting he had wet himself would be a new all time low, not to mention embarrassing, on the other, if he didn't say something he'd be stuck sitting in his own urine for God knows how long. Before he knew what he was doing, he tugged on Henry's shirt, hard enough for him to get the message that Dean wanted his attention. 

"What is it?" Henry asked, watching as Dean looked up at him with red rimmed eyes and, whilst he knew this wasn't the most ideal situation for Dean, he certainly didn't seem like the type to cry about it. He sat down on the rocking chair that had been put in the corner of the room. Dean didn't say anything. "Hey, it's fine, I don't bite,"

Dean simply pushed his face into Henry's chest and tried to ignore the soggy diaper under him. Henry, seemingly catching on, put two fingers down the back of it.

"Oh," Henry said simply, hauling Dean up onto the changing table and grabbing a new diaper and throwing the old one in the bin. He had a pretty good idea of how you were supposed to do this, although it had been a long time since he had done it himself. "I'm going to apologise ahead of time if I do this wrong,"

Dean, who was already far past embarrassed, was now feeling a little wary of letting Henry be the one to do this. The man who was looking slightly perplexed at the baby products stood on the shelf, before pulling down what looked right and sliding a diaper underneath him. It felt different compared to Sam's obviously practise movements. Henry was much slower and unsure and Dean was actually starting to wonder if he should just tell Henry to get Sam to do it.

There were so many bottles, seriously, what are these all for?! He grabbed some diaper cream and rubbed it over Dean's genitals, he was fairly sure there was something else he was supposed to do as well, but he couldn't find anything else that looked useful, so he taped it up and went to find Dean some clothes.

Dean was also pretty sure there were some other steps, but before he could mention it, he was being pulled into a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and some ankle socks and brought down for breakfast. He was once again placed in the God awful high chair and left to stare out at the rest of the room. Everyone else was already up and at it and Dean wondered what time it was. Bobby and John were making cooked breakfast and Mary, Sam and Henry seemed to be having a very interesting conversation. Something about a group of Hunters in Idaho. Then Mary was popping a pacifier in his mouth and walking over to John and Bobby.

"Did you change him?" Sam asked, having left Henry that morning and making sure he'd taken care of everything he was supposed to.

"Yeah, of course," Henry replied, looking over at where Dean was slumped in his seat, looking bored out of his mind.

"Did you do it right?" Sam pushed, bopping Dean on the nose, who in turn went cross eyed trying to follow his brother turned cousins fingers.

"Yeah," Henry said indignantly, he could manage just fine without Sam hovering over him like a mother hen. 

"Alright, I believe you," Sam huffed, turning his attention to Dean, who had been intently watching this conversation fold out. That's when Dean remembered, baby powder, Sam had used baby powder. Although Dean couldn't be sure what baby powder was actually for. He was going to mention it, but instead he blew a spit bubble. Which, judging by the endearing smile on the two older men's faces, was completely adorable. Dean just went red in the face and tried to catch the line of dribble running down his chin. Mary wiped it away with a napkin and Bobby set the food onto the table.

Once again, Dean was given a plastic plate, with a plastic fork and pre-cut food. He was marginally more successful in feeding himself this time, if the floor had anything to say about it. Dean was actually impressed with himself. His coordination was the best of all the two year olds around! Someone picked him up from behind and he looked up to see John and it was still so weird to see John like this. It had been years since his father had picked him up and treated him his age instead of years older than he was. Although technically John was his Uncle here, which was even weirder, if he was being honest.

"Hey Dean," He smiled down at him, beard brushing against his face. It was scratchy and only served to remind him that he, too, had once had facial hair. It was kind of sad to see it go. Then again, it might look odd for a child his age to have stubble. 

"Hi," He smiled back and he knew he was cute, okay. Mary cooed at him when he said it and it was obvious. Clearly he had to put his charms to good use. "Unca Jo," His inability to talk properly just served to gain him more attention and Dean wondered how quickly he could wrap these guys around his pinkie finger.

"Do you think we could keep him?" Mary asked Henry and Dean reckoned it would be pretty quickly.

"Give Henry his kid back," Bobby's gruff voice floated through the kitchen and John unwillingly handed Dean over to his Dad. "What-"

Bobby was cut off by the sound of Mary's phone ringing and with an apologetic smile, she went into the kitchen to answer it. Dean twisted as far round in Henry's arms as he could, curious as to who was on the phone and why. Apparently he didn't have to worry about Henry dropping him because he couldn't turn that far at all.

"What were you going to say?" Henry asked, taking no notice as to the sudden intrusion. 

"Oh, I was going to ask what you're doing today? We haven't really discussed any plans..." Bobby finished, looking over to where Mary was speaking in a hushed voice. The mood seemed to have dropped significantly, replaced by a sudden tension. As though they were all waiting for her to announce something awful, either that, or everyone else already knows who's on the other side of that phone.

"I hadn't really thought about it if I'm honest," Henry replied as Mary walked back into the room.

"It was Bill, has a job over in Wisconsin for us," She said and it seemed as though this is what everyone had been waiting for. It was evident no one was surprised. "John and I can go over and take care of it,"

"You sure you don't want me to come along with you two?" Sam asked, looking a little wary. Dean guessed something had happened in the past, judging by the look on Sam's face.

"You stay and look after Dean, we've got this one covered," Mary smiled, ruffling Dean's hair and stepping out to grab her stuff.

"You two going to be okay?" Henry spoke up.

"We'll be fine, if we have a problem, we'll call," John assured them as Mary walked in, a duffel on each shoulder. "One last thing, we're taking the 'mpala," 

Then, with a quick goodbye, they were out the door and off to Wisconsin to hunt Vampires. Dean much preferred it when the two of them were at home, though because not long after he was being put back in his highchair, with much struggle on Sam's part and left with a wide range of crayons and a colouring book. Apparently, he was too young to do whatever Sam and Henry were doing, which looked much more interesting than colouring and Bobby was working out in the yard. Couldn't he at least sit out there? This was not fair. Don't young kids need attention? He was fairly sure Sam received a lot of his attention growing up. By a lot, he means all.

"This lame," He huffed to himself, kicking his legs a little in retribution for his child self's inability to talk normally. It was fine when other people were around, they thought it was cute, but on his own it was just a reminder of all the thing he couldn't do anymore. That's how he came to realise that with how far from the ground he was and how short his legs were, he could swing them back and forth quite successfully, without hitting anything. Which quickly became much more entertaining than anything else in the room. 

Back and forth. Back and forth. It was sort of therapeutic and the child side of Dean's brain seemed to think it was the most entertaining thing ever.

Still swinging his legs, he turned his attention to the open colouring book. Before him was a castle and a princess, which Dean would have questioned more, if it weren't for the fact it was white. The burning urge to colour it in caught up to him way too quickly and he picked up the first crayon. Not like anyone was going to judge him, they all seemed to think he was baby and it wasn't like they were going to give him a colouring book and then tell him he shouldn't have coloured anything in. This universe was almost like the nice version of reality. Maybe if they just stayed here, everything would be okay. He would be able to have a redo, without dead parents and psychic Sammy and everything afterward. He could grow up here, with everyone alive and safe.

He went over the line. 

Dean stared at the fat pink mark that was protruding from Princess Diana's (don't judge he just felt like naming her that) dress. It was like some huge pink slug and tears pricked at his eyes. His legs came to a slow stop and he could feel the hot sting from wear his inner thighs had chafed on his diaper. He would not cry over a colouring book, that was not happening. It was fine, he could cover it up. If he just coloured that in the same colour, it'd all look fine. He would not cry, it was okay, there would just be a little more pink than intended, but that's okay because pink is an okay colour. Not like it's all going to be grey or something boring like that. Not that there was anything wrong with grey and Dean suddenly felt bad... For a crayon. What is wrong with him?! Not like he wasn't actually going to be here forever. Henry and Sam would find a way to fix everything and then everything would be back to normal and he'd be thirty again.

He had to wonder, though, was it really worth going back? Was it really better before? He had to snap out of this. Of course everything was better before this. He was Dean, not this kid that was a quarter of his height, probably smaller even. He liked macho stuff, like nice cars and quality beer and hot women, not colouring books and stuffed toys and swinging his legs. Seriously though, swinging his legs was fun. He wondered if he'd liked doing that before Mary died, when he was a kid the first time round.

Dean finished off his piece and he was proud of himself, even with the dexterity of a child, he coloured like a pro and his earlier mistake was completely unnoticeable. The burning desire to get someone else's approval wrapped around him. When he was young the first time, he'd had a colouring book, after Mary died, that is. John had bought it for him so he could research in peace, but he'd never bother looking at one Dean had made. When he was young, he loved art, maybe he could have pursued that.

He wondered if Sam went to Stanford in this universe. If he did, was John supportive of it? Did Jess die like she did in this version of reality? There were so many things he didn't know yet. Who else was still alive? What had and hadn't happened?

He wanted out of this highchair. His uncoordinated tiny hands would struggled to open the harness and he tried to remember how it'd been done up in the first place. Once it was off, he remembered why it was there in the first place. His body can't support itself properly. That would have been a nice thing to have remembered. Luckily, the wooden piece between his legs caught him effectively and it was good to know he could rely on it in the future.

Grabbing his picture, he made a feeble attempt at rolling onto the tray of his highchair, which was clearly not the way to go about it. Instead, he held onto it, using it as an aid to stand up on wobbly legs. He would do this, he just had to be careful not to fall. He pulled himself up onto the tray, from which he made his way onto the table, which was close enough for him to grip onto the chair and kneel on the table. He sat back onto his bottom and breathed in heavily. That was way too much effort. He rolled over onto his hands and knees and pushed out one of the chairs, putting two hands on the edge of the table and lowering himself down onto the chair, which he fell back onto. Now to get on the floor. Once again he dropped down using his previous ledge for support and when he finally reached the ground, felt very proud that he and his picture had made it all the way down.

The only thing was, he could really take a nap about now. Activity was so much more wearing than it had been when he was 30. Instead, he took a moment to lay back on the ground and breathe heavily and think about how much smaller he was than everything else now. 

All he had to do now was make it out into the yard and show Bobby his creation and then he could take a nap.

Henry and Sam had decided to watch a horror film. Why? Because one of Sam's friends had recommended it. The two could see why and were glad that they had taken the time to watch it, even if Henry did feel guilty about leaving Dean in his highchair. Sam had been quick to reassure him that the kid would probably colour for a while and then fall asleep anyway, so he needn't worry.

Of course, Dean wasn't asleep, he was sat outside, the warm sun against is skin and dry dirt below him. The junkyard had never looked so huge, with all the cars everywhere and the long dirt path it led off on. Bobby was working on an old Volkswagen bus that was barely recognisable under all the rust and missing parts. It was one Dean had often seen lying under piles of other much nicer cars. Not that any of the cars in Bobby's yard looked particularly nice, they were all falling apart and were in dire need of a paintjob. He had to wonder why Bobby had chosen to fix that one out of all the cars he owned. There were definitely ones that would clean up nicer.

Using piles of junk and ancient cars to walk, he managed to make his way to Bobby. Just in time too because his legs were starting to hurt and he was sure had he walked any further they would have given out on him.

"Unca Bo-bo," Dean huffed, after a moment during which Bobby didn't notice him. He was getting good at this name thing, after having had his speech inhibited. 

"Dean! How did you get out here huh?" After the initial shock of seeing Dean wore off, he smiled goofily down at the small boy.

"Climbed," Dean said simply, grinning back at him. "Look," He held up his picture for Bobby to see and sucked in a breath as he waited for some kind of comment on it.

"I love it, did you do this all by yourself?" Bobby asked incredulously, hoisting the boy up onto his lap and using one hand to support Dean's back. Dean giggled and nodded. He giggled. Which was not something he thought he would have been doing at thirty years old. Even if he technically was a child now. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were the next Van Gogh," He chuckled. Dean beamed under Bobby's praise, all of his insecurities being washed away and Dean, for once in a very long time, felt good about himself. "Although, you probably don't know who that is, do you?"

The film had just finished and Henry decided to check on Dean, not wanting to leave him by himself for two long. Dean, however, was not there. Just an empty highchair and a mess of crayons, which had fallen off the tray during Dean's escape.

"Sam!" He called, heart beating hard and fast. Where was he? Had he been stolen? Kidnapped? Taken by something supernatural? Was he okay, was he hurt, was he even still alive? Which, in hindsight, may have been a bit of a stretch and maybe he did over react a little. But his child was gone! It was definitely a fair thing to freak out about.

"Yeah," Sam's voice floated into the kitchen, as he ran into the room where they had left Dean. "Where's... You look inside, I'll check the yard," Sam instructed, trying to stay calm and collected and think straight. Of course, he need not look far, as Dean was sat with Bobby, looking at the bus he was fixing up. It was actually kind of cute, Dean sat on one knee, listening to Bobby tell him about all the parts and reaching out to touch anything that interested him. Bobby was explaining in the most simple terms he could think of, how to fix up a car, even letting Dean do somethings, who seemed to be understanding what to do with ease. 

Henry came rushing out the house a moment later, all wide eyes and pale skin.

"I couldn't find him, he's not there!" He exclaimed, overflowing with panic.

"He's out here. Bobby's showing him how cars work," Sam jabbed one thumb in the direction of the two. Henry just stood there, filled with an undeniable sense of relief and hoped that Dean wondering off would not become a regular occurrence. At least Dean looked happy.

As he watched the two of them, it hit him like a ton of bricks. He was now responsible for another persons life and wellbeing and that person relied on him to take care of them. It kind of scared him, to have that kind of responsibility, if he was being honset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! Yeah, this is it... I hope you like it, I guess.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Not really sure if anyone would be interested in more of this, but if you are, I'd be happy to write it... so yeah... Thanks.


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